


Tabula Rasa

by Buffet_of_geekery



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Gay Illya, M/M, Movie: The Return of the Man from U.N.C.L.E., Period-Typical Homophobia, Spies & Secret Agents, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buffet_of_geekery/pseuds/Buffet_of_geekery
Summary: After being reunited with Napoleon 15 years after resigning from UNCLE, Illya has to face up to what he did all those years ago.My contribution to the 'why they seemingly didn't speak between the series and the reunion movie' genre. Inspired by the Pretenders song Back On The Chain Gang.





	Tabula Rasa

Illya sat on the floor of his new condominimum. There was plenty of unpacking still to do but for now he was content to shuffle through a stack of photographs Napoleon had given him for his birthday once upon a time. He'd forgotten he still had them. The snapshots were of his partner various cool spy poses. With him channeling his inner James Bond, they could have easily passed for UNCLE recruitment posters.  
Well, if it wasn't for the fact that Napoleon was stark bollock naked.  
Once upon a time that splendid figure sent shivers up his spine. Now, it was difficult to look at.

 

January 16th 1968  
"Mmm. That was incredible." Napoleon lies next to Illya, melted into a pool, enjoying their post coital bliss. The bedding seems even damper with their sweat and fluids than usual. He half expects Illya to drag him out of bed to throw the sheets in the laundry.  
Even though it is Napoleon's apartment.  
"It always is." Illya lies facing the door. He can't face his paramour, not now.   
"Something up?" Napoleon gently turns him round and scoops him in to a hug. "You seemed a little distracted."  
A lump forms in Illya's throat from gazing into those brown pools of care and concern. One of the first things that had attracted him to Napoleon had been his eyes. He wants the two of them to just run and hide from the world. But they can't. Some things can't be fought.  
Napoleon deserves to know the truth.   
"Melissa proposed to me today."   
"Really?" Napoleon lets out a small snort of amusement. When they first got together they'd agreed to carry on dating women for appearances sake.  
"Yes." Illya scrunches up his eyes. "I'm going to do it."   
"No." Napoleon's quiet plea makes his heart hurt.   
The few inches between their bodies suddenly feels like the Grand Canyon.   
"I'm sorry."  
"No you're not." Napoleon spits with a venom that surprises both men. Illya pulls away from their embrace. He sits up resting his head in his hands.   
"We can't keep doing this."  
"Can!" Napoleon pouts. It's almost amusing.  
"We're risking everything just for sex."  
"That's a huge lie and you know it.  
Illya can't think about that now. "What we're doing is wrong.  We could go to prison. We could be fired from UNCLE. People would think us sick. Do you want to get banned from seeing your nephews?"  
"I'm not planning on getting caught, are you?"  
" Look, my mind's made up." Tears sting his eyes.  He turns back to Napoleon with his hand behind his head as though posing. "We still have tonight."  
"Get out." There's not a hint of anger in Napoleon's voice, only resignation. Illya obediently began getting dressed. He wished Napoleon would yell, scream, hit him. Anything. 

Moments later he was out the door into the hostile winter night wishing he'd takes one last look at his lover. The next day he found out Napoleon had handed in his resignation.

 

June 1983  
Even with all the windows open it was still suffocatingly hot. Illya leaned his head against the window  listening to the clickety clack of the wheels on the rails. Every so often there was a rustling sound as Napoleon turned the pages of his newspaper. After the chaos of the past few days the quiet was a relief, Napoleon having paid for first class tickets for the pair of them. The two were heading back to New York after their second mission since rejoining UNCLE. It felt great to be back in action but now he just wanted to get back to his studio, to reassure himself it was still standing as much as anything else. His friends from fashion school kept telling him he needed to learn to delegate. It's not that he didn't trust his employees but old habits died hard. For so much of his life he'd had no one to depend on but himself.   
"Toffee?" Napoleon nudged him in the ribs.   
"Thank you." Illya twisted off the gold wrapper.  
"Our stop next." Napoleon yawned as they pulled into a station. "Hey IK?" he whispered with such urgency that Illya almost reached for his gun.  
"What's wrong?"  
"That young lady over there." Napoleon gestured to a smartly dressed woman waiting to get off.   
"What about her?"   
"Is that bag one of yours?"  
Illya relaxed back into his chair. "It is indeed." he smiled. Seeing his designs in the wild was the best feeling ever. Well, second best after a really, really good explosion."It's something of an 'it' bag. Why?"  
Napoleon grinned. "If this comes up again I'll deny it but I'm proud of you, partner."  
"Thank you."  
"Who'd have thought you of all people would have made it in the fashion biz?"  
Maybe he was too tired to think of a clever comeback. Maybe he was going soft in his middle age. Either way Illya let the backhanded compliment slide.   
The train rolled to a halt. Napoleon nudged him again. "Come on, this is us."

Illya leaned against Napoleon's car. It was still blisteringly hot but at least he could breathe now. A plesant breeze blew dandilion seeds around his feet. He thought back to his childhood games of loves me, loves me not. Even as an adult he'd been known to dabble in a bit of botanical divination.

he loves me   
loves me not   
spits at me   
kisses me   
presses me to his heart   
sends me to hell

 Napoleon pushed over a trolley stacked with both their luggage. "Can I give you a lift home?"   
"Thank you." After they'd loaded their belongings into the trunk Illya hopped into the back seat and they took off. There was nothing stopping Illya sitting shotgun but...  
"Napoleon?"  
"Mmm?" his friend happily drummed his fingers against the wheel in time with the music playing in his head.   
"I'm, I'm really sorry about what happened between us."   
Napoleon waved his hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. We really were playing with fire."   
"Still. I could have chosen a better time to tell you." Images from that night drifted through Illya's conscious.   
"Did you marry her in the end?"   
"No. Things didn't work out."   
"You should have looked me up."   
"I could have, yes." Illya stared at his feet. Napoleon stopped drumming his fingers.   
"I wish I could have been there for you when the business with Janus happened."  
Illya's head shot up. " Never mention that name again." he snarled                                                                                                                               
"Yeah well he's dead now." He wasn't often so blunt. "You've got a fresh start."   
Illya nodded, not that Napoleon could see.   
"What have you got planned for the rest of the week?" the American asked.   
"I'm interviewing for a textile designer tomorrow."  
"Ugh. Fun."   
"I know. I'd rather go up against Thrush totally unarmed."  
"You really would." his friend guffawed. "Hey, remember that business with that fashion studio back in the day?" They both soaked in the memories. "Wasn't that the first time you let me-" Napoleon realised what he was about to say and blushed. Neither of them said anything for a while.   
 "Would you like to come for a drink?" Illya broke the silence.   
"Now? Sure. Where do you want to go?"  
"Corner of fifth and third."   
"Ok. Don't think I've been there." Their destination wasn't far. The remainder of their journey passed with a mix of small talk and comfortable silence. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding. 'The Inferno Club?" They pulled up outside the tackiest building Napoleon had ever seen, and he'd spent time in Vegas.   
"I know." Illya hopped out the car and practically skipped over to the driver's door. "Totally lacking in anything approaching good taste but the chairs are comfortable." he smirked. The door swung open and he dragged his friend inside.   
   
Once safely in the gay bubble Illya pushed Napoleon against the faux marble bar.

And kissed him.

Kissed him like his life depended on it. 

Like they'd never been apart. 

Lips smashing together. Teeth clashing. Tongues fighting for purchase. 

Napoleon broke away ever so slightly. "Do you think Raleigh will mind?"  
"Don't care." Illya resumed their kiss, pulling their bodies closer together. As it was still fairly early the club was rather muted. The disco lights were on though. Primary coloured beams frolicked around them, illuminating the two men like a spotlight. Terrible music hummed away safely ignored in the background. Frankly, the other patrons could have set off a fireworks display inside the bar without the agents noticing. 

"Easy Kuryakin. Let the nice man breathe." A bleach haired guy behind the bar teased. Illya broke away from Napoleon, after all he was starting to feel a bit light headed. Good time to pause.   
"Two cokes please, Jarred."   
"Sure." the bar man nodded and grabbed their drinks out the fridge. They landed on the counter with a thunk. Napoleon pulled out his wallet. "My treat."  
"No I insist." Illya handed over payment before Napoleon had chance to. He picked up their beverages. "Come on."  
He led his friend over to the corner and they sank into a booth.  
"Ooh. You weren't kidding about the chairs." Napoleon sighed  
"I find there are more attractive men here too." Illya immediately regretted this bit of teasing. He looked down and chewed on his lip. "I never stopped loving you." he said very quietly.   
"Same here." said Napoleon. "It's not been the same without you." He clinked their cans of pop together in a toast. "To us."  
"To fresh starts." Illya beamed.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
